


What the Future Holds

by alphonse18



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Aleks in a cheerleading uniform, Aleks is a little angsty, Asher on Lights, Bassist and backup singer Aleks, Cow Chop Band, Drummer Brett, Eventual Explicit sexual content, James is a little bit of a dick, Lead singer James, M/M, Manager and band mom Lindsey, Might add more tags as the story progresses, Or maybe not so eventual, Sound guy Jakob, Trevor on Keyboard, band au, blond boi Aleks, inspired by a photoshopped tweet he actually responded to, just the regular banter that's in videos, only at first though, probably a little hurt and comfort, slowish burn, they dress up for shows sometimes, which means
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:32:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphonse18/pseuds/alphonse18
Summary: Aleks, better known as Immortal, is a well-known solo bassist on the underground scene. Content with it staying that way, his life changes when James fucking Wilson asks him to try out for his band, Cow Chop, known for their wild and sometimes absurd behavior on stage.With a past that's left him with an aching heart and a negative impact on being a part of a band, Aleks warily accepts despite his better judgement of staying solo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Hope you enjoy this Band AU, with a slightly angsty but hurting Aleks. Not sure how long it'll be, but it'll be full of light angst, some fluff, and smut. Title may change, as I'm not 100% happy with it.  
> I'm a little rusty, as this is the first thing I've posted in many years, but goddamn, NovaHD thrives and so will I.  
> -A

Aleks had one dream, one aspiration in life when he was a kid. And that was being able to play bass for a huge and successful band. Growing up an orphan, he sometimes felt like an outcast and more than a little lonely. The one thing that made him feel whole and right was learning to play the guitar he got for Christmas when he was nine. He then moved to bass a few years later, discovering a whole new side of himself. He knew he wasn’t meant to do anything else in life. If people were really here for a purpose (which he liked to believe but highly doubted more often than not), playing bass for a living was his.

But playing bass in a shitty underground club was not what his nine year old self had imagined. Still, it paid the bills on his even shittier apartment (if you could call the open floor plan that). Though it wasn't all bad, and he had even made a name for himself, and was known locally for it. Given to him due to his notorious reputation of always staying relevant despite the fact that he never staying in a band for longer than a month’s time. Even then, he hadn't been a part of a band in over a six months. 

So despite what his dream had once been, he enjoyed flying solo. His voice wasn’t half bad either, so it was doable. Still, he missed the rush of being up on stage with a group. Feeling like being a part of something bigger, something more. The camaraderie that came from each person, each instrument, coming together to make the crowds jump and holler. Looking over in the middle of the melody at another band member, knowing that this was what they were meant for. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel that again, nor did he particularly want to. He was cautious, and never opened up, and lead to his ultimate departure from the bands that originally begged him to join. 

A hand on his shoulder broke him out of his musings, “You’re up Immortal, knock 'em dead.” 

Taking a deep breath, he embraced the feeling of anticipation before getting on stage. Of knowing there were people, _fans_ , waiting eagerly for him to play. The turn out was good. The underground club packed from it being Saturday and the line up of up and coming bands performing. 

Alcohol flowed, bodies pressed up against bodies, and the club seemed to have it’s own heartbeat as he got up on stage and started to play without any verbal intro. Aleks didn’t feel the need for useless talk when he was there for a singular purpose - the music. He let it consume him, let the notes flow out of his fingertips and wash over the crowd. The man he once was forgotten, lost, taken over by the need to play. His voice joined soon after, almost unintelligible. The perfect compliment to his bass. 

It was over before he realized, like it always was. Lost to the music, surrendered to it’s sweet embrace. The crowd cheered and he flashed a quick smile, sweat beading down his temple. Exiting felt like it always had; like leaving home. He couldn’t ever shake the feeling that a piece of himself remained on stage and that he only ever got it back by returning there. 

Deciding to grab a drink before heading back to his apartment, he almost didn’t recognize the man sitting beside him at the bar. The man was wearing sunglasses. Indoors, at night. What a douche, Aleks thought.

“That was some pretty good playing up there,” the words accompanied by a pointed thumb at the stage.

Aleks grunted in thanks, not really up for conversation, but still appreciative of the compliment. He took a generous gulp of his vodka and coke, and inclined his head towards the man. 

“Thanks man, I just love the music.” He stated, not really giving the man another glance. Usually Aleks was all for conversing with those who enjoyed his playing, but tonight he was tired and ready to slide into bed and forget about his existence for awhile. 

Dark shades slid down the man’s perfectly straight nose, and warm brown eyes met his. “Here, take this. If you’re interested, my band is having tryouts this Tuesday. Come by, I think you would be a great addition to the crew.”

The tryout flyer was placed by his drink, and Aleks barely gave it a glance. While it didn’t happen often, being recruited by shitty start up bands was something he was familiar with. Though with his reputation, it didn’t happen often. Most knew he played alone, and always would. 

The air next to him shifted from warm to cold as the man finally left him in peace. Suddenly eager to get home, he downed his drink and dropped money on the counter. He almost left the flyer there, but a familiar logo adorning it caught his attention.

In that moment, he realized who he had been sitting next to. Who had complimented his playing and basically asked him to join his band. 

James fucking Wilson. 

The lead singer of Cow Chop. While not overtly famous, they were an increasingly popular band, known for their behavior questionable at best, and sometimes even outright inappropriate behavior on stage. Along with this, their fans were fiercely devoted and dedicated. 

With mixed feelings, he stuffed the flyer in his jacket pocket, dead set on throwing it out once he got home. Though he'd maybe hang it on the fridge for a day or two just because.

For now, he pushed those feeling of want down. He couldn’t go through it again. Not after the last time.

The chilly air had him rushing to his car, and he let the stillness of night calm him, unaware of the abrupt change that was about to uproot his life and change it forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo!  
> Second chapter is here! I hope it isn't too cliche in regards to Aleks and his music. Cuz that dude really loves his music. And generally, when people are passionate about something, it gets a little cliche (I can vouch from personal experience) lol.  
> Things won't be so fast paced after this chapter (or perhaps the third, not sure yet as I'm currently writing it) Then it'll be gettin' to the good stuff! (Aleks has a little crush...or maybe not so little lol)  
> -A

A teenager being thrown at his feet, cursing and screaming, greeted Aleks at the door. He found himself wondering why the hell he was here. 

Oh yeah, money. Right. 

A man with a dark beard and bomber jacket looked up from the kid who struggled to his feet, shoving past Aleks on his way out. 

“Don’t tell me you play like Zeppelin and then turn out to be utter shit. I don’t think I can handle throwing another ego driven pussy out the door.”

Man, why was he here again?

Grip tightening on his bass case, he answered, “Uh...no.”

The man heaved a relieved breath and moved from the doorway, allowing Aleks in. A friendly smile was aimed in his direction as they traveled to the middle of the warehouse. 

“I’m --”

“Brett, I know,” Aleks cut him off. Irritation seeped through him. Not at Brett, no. The irritation stemmed from his inability to remember why he decided to even come here. Was the money even really worth it? He could be sleeping, or practicing on his new lineup. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. 

“Okay,” said Brett, drawing out the ‘o’.

A moment of silence descended before Brett continued, “You’d think in LA, finding a bassist and back up singer would be easy. Let me fucking tell you, it’s anything but. I think we’ve heard the worst musicians ever to walk the planet.”

Aleks laughed despite his nerves, and looked around, taking in the cluttered space around them. 

“Look who decided to show up,” James jeered, “Immortal. Glad you could make it, man.” 

The rest of the band immediately went silent, staring at James in either shock or disbelief. Someone even their lead singer approved of? It was unheard of. Of all the bassists the band has heard, only a select few were passable, and even then, James didn’t like any of them, stating he didn’t “vibe” with them before they even had the chance to play.

Several sets of eyes settled on Aleks at once, and his fight or flight kicked in. It wasn’t unsimilar to getting up on stage, and he sent them all a grin. 

“I almost didn’t,” he replied unashamedly. 

It was James who smiled then, one side of his mouth stretching in humor, “Well, enough time wasted, let’s hear you play then.”

He could do that. He was born for it, after all. Taking a deep breath, Aleks took out his bass and plugged it into the nearby amp, and began to play. He let the music flow from his fingers, playing something he’d been working on recently that he hadn’t performed on stage yet. It was a melancholic tune, quickly transforming into something edgier, angry. He channeled all of his frustration, his shortcomings and negative emotions into it. The notes rang through the warehouse, echoing back to him, sounding just as revealing and vulnerable as it did when he wrote it. 

The bassist actually hadn’t decided what he was going to play for them up until that moment. It seemed right, it just fit. Besides, sometimes it was easier to express himself in song, than in conversation.

His voice accompanied the melody, a somber yet rich tone. The notes trailed as the song ended, and silence descended, letting him revel in the bittersweet finality of it. 

He hadn’t even realized his eyes had closed until clapping overtook the tense silence. Blinking to awareness, looks of awe adorned each band members face. All except for one - James’s. There was a soft look in the man’s deep brown eyes, and a small smile accompanying it. For some reason Aleks felt blood rush to his cheeks in response.

“Brett,” James called, eyes never leaving Aleks’s, “take down the tryout flyer, we’ve found our bassist and backup singer.” 

Cheers, victorious whoops and exhausted mutterings of ‘thank god’ followed. Hands patted him on the back, greeting of ‘welcome aboard’ and ‘good luck you’re going to need it’ couldn’t erase the feeling of disbelief he felt. 

A spark filled James’s eyes, and Aleks couldn’t stop the genuine smile that grew on his face.

“Welcome to Cow Chop, Aleks. This is either the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

At the time, the bassist was too high from his playing, and being chosen by Cow Chop to really think upon James’s words. Soon enough, he’d learn that he wasn’t just a part of a band, but a family. 

A fucked up family, but a family nonetheless.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the long wait!! College, moving and work have kicked my ass, but I'll try my hardest to post more frequently! Hope everyone is having a good day !!
> 
> Previously: “Welcome to Cow Chop, Aleks. This is either the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” 
> 
> At the time, the bassist was too high from his playing, and being chosen by Cow Chop to really think upon James’s words. Soon enough, he’d learn that he wasn’t just a part of a band, but a family. 
> 
> A fucked up family, but a family nonetheless."

James had been wrong. Joining Cow Chop turned out to be the best _and_ worst thing that had ever happened to him. The bassist fit right in, and before he knew it, a month had already passed. 

He quickly learned the best and worst about the crew. James was tough and hard to deal with during practice, wanting everything to be perfect. Of course, in the end it always paid off, but it was still a bitch to deal with. 

Lindsey, the manager and designated band mom always made sure to keep them in check. Especially when they got tired of practicing and made some not so smart decisions. The once pristine couch hasn’t looked the same since. And there may or may not have been an increase in fires since Aleks joined. Asher had made sure a fire extinguisher was always at the ready, just in case.

Brett would have been designated band dad, if not for the fact that he sometimes partook in said activities, or even instigated a few of them himself. He was cool, and Aleks looked up to the man. As a mentor, and begrudgingly admitted, an older brother. 

When Jakob wasn’t writing new songs (which Aleks pitched in a couple of times, because hey, he enjoyed writing lyrics) they’d bond over shitty horror movies. Asher and Trevor tagged along more often than not, and instead of feeling like he was intruding, he felt like a part of something. For the first time in years, he felt like he belonged. 

And this was only in the first few weeks. Before he knew it, gigs were lined up and band practice became a sanctuary for him. As stupid as it sounded, he felt safe there...wanted. It felt like coming home, a feeling he rarely got with any band. As the days flew by, the bassist got lost in the routine of sleep, eat, practice, repeat. 

There were good and bad days, and today was definitely a bad one. In the middle of a particularly rough practice, Aleks took a much needed break outside for fresh air to ebb away the feelings of frustration. He was struggling on a specific part and no matter what how many times they went through it, he couldn’t nail it. Upsetting not only him but the other members as well. And despite them being understanding and patient, he could tell James was getting irritated.

The sound of the door opening had him straightening from his hunched position against the cement wall. Trevor gave him a reassuring smile, and knocked shoulders with him. 

“You know, the first time I performed on stage with Cow Chop, I fucked up so bad,” he shared, laughing a bit, “It’s funny now, but at the time, man, it fucking sucked. I had a solo and totally messed it up. I was a nervous wreck, not used to being on stage or having so much attention on me. I was sure James was going to yell and then fire me after the performance.”

Aleks gave him a side glance, unsure of where this was going, as it didn’t seem to be very reassuring. 

Trevor noticed his look and all signs of amusement left his face. 

“But that didn’t happen. Once we were backstage James just patted me on the back and told me I’d done a good job. It was wild, dude. He wasn’t mad at all. Just told me ‘shit happens,’ and that I’d get used to performing in front of a crowd.” 

His friend and band mate shifted, looking up into the night sky with a fond expression on his face. 

Almost as if he were telling Aleks a secret, Trevor confessed, “Look man, what you see of James in practice, that’s not him. He’s only an asshole because he cares. He acts that way so he won’t have to later on, if that makes sense. James wants you to be the best version of yourself you can be, and give one hundred percent of yourself to the music. I mean, this is his _life_ , dude. He started Cow Chop out of nothing and grew it into what it is now. And since he personally invited you to try out, I’d say he has a lot of faith in you, and doesn’t want you to lose that in yourself.”

Aleks was speechless, and he was sure his mouth was gaping open. Sure, out of everyone, he and Trevor had grown the closest. On drunken nights they’d reveal deeper things about themselves, but never something like this. Something so open, honest, and sincere. 

One look at the bassist, and Trevor burst out laughing, “You look like a fucking idiot.”

“Hey, fuck you man, at least I don’t look like that all the time, unlike you,” Aleks said with a sharp shove and Trevor stumbled, but not enough to stop laughing. 

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and the weight that was crushing him when he first came outside had disappeared.

Not wanting to make any more of a scene than he already had, the bassist made his way back inside, flipping his friend off for good measure before joining the rest of the group. Only to find them scattered throughout the warehouse and most the equipment put away. 

James looked up from gathering the mic cord, “We’re done for the night, man. Go ahead and pack up and go home. We’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning to continue practice.” 

While nothing negative was said, Aleks still felt responsible for practice ending early. The lead singer must have noticed something on his face, because before he knew it, James was in his space and a warm hand was on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, Aleks. It’s not always going to be effortless to learn a new piece. You’re doing fine, so don’t ruminate over this shit.”

Aleks felt trapped in the stare of warm brown eyes that focused so intently on him. He felt the sudden need to clear his throat, and he desperately hoped the warmth that had rushed to his face wasn’t obvious. Only able to nod in response, James gave his shoulder a squeeze and continued putting the rest of the equipment away.

He tried to ignore how cold he felt where James’s hand just was. Throat far too dry, he swallowed and willed away the flush on his face. His palms felt clammy, and as he put away his bass, he ignored the man beside him. He also tried to ignore the feelings that welled up within him. He was so fucked, and he try as he might, feigning ignorance was useless. 

Aleks had a crush on James fucking Wilson.


End file.
